


Fond

by kalika_999



Series: Jack and Brock's misadventures [129]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Confessions, HYDRA Husbands, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Murder, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26038666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/pseuds/kalika_999
Summary: Jack needs that recipe for marble cake.
Relationships: Brock Rumlow/Original Male Character(s), Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow
Series: Jack and Brock's misadventures [129]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/547894
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	Fond

**Author's Note:**

  * For [winter_angst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_angst/gifts).



> Hello you. I wanted to do something for the kink bingo and dedicate it to you but I thought about murder instead. <3

“If you were looking for Brock, he’s not here right now. Probably fucking about at that shitty dive bar he likes so you’re wasting your time.” The man at the door informs him. His hands are balled up, bruised up at the knuckles but when they notice Jack looking, they loosen up. 

Jack doesn’t like reading people so easily and resists the urge to frown over it. This guy isn’t even trying and it’s tedious when that happens.

His mind is already made up either way. He came here to get something done and Jack’s not one to back out of something once he’s set his mind to it. Besides, when it comes to Brock, he’s his and he’s not going to deal with someone else stepping into his territory. It’s only easier when the on and off again relationship is one with an abusive asshole front and centre. It only adds conviction to his plans.

“No, actually I came to speak to you.”

Brows go up before they’re schooled to something neutral. “Me? Wait, did he send you here?”

Jack smiled. “Nah, but there was this cake you made for a party a couple days ago..”

The man has a moment of clarity and nods, “Yeah, the marble cake. Brock’s so disorganized, he begged me to make it for him for your..what? Office party?”

It was actually something they drugged to prank Johnson with but office party sounded fine, nodding along with his hands shoved casually into his jeans pockets. “Yeah, the guys are all still talking about it. Wanted to see if you’d mind giving out the recipe so we could make it again for next time.” 

Pride hits everyone in the same way and Jack lets it settle in and take its place. The guy smirks before he nods. “Sure, follow me but take off your shoes. I know you guys keep everything clean and whatever but I don’t want shoe marks all over the carpet. I’m Michael by the way and you’re..?”

“Jack.” He answers easily enough as they make their way to the kitchen. He lingers a half step behind and sizes the ex-marine up. It smells like vanilla cake the closer they get and inside there’s a bowl of hot pink icing on the marble island beside cooling cupcakes. 

“Oh yeah. Rollins, right? Brock’s mentioned you a couple times; you just start him up and he won’t shut up. He needs a new hobby. Well, at least you caught me at the right time too, a neighbour's having a birthday party for their kid. I asked if I should bring some kind of dessert over and they said cupcakes would be nice. Why they’d want something sweet when you’re already serving cake is kind of moronic but if that’s what they want.”

Jack tunes the rest of what Michael’s saying out and he pauses at the gas range stove, the same one that Brock said he accidentally burned half his hand on a few weeks ago saying he was trying to make dinner. Brock lies well, too well sometimes, but Jack knows him better than anyone.

He already hates the place, it’s too polished and extravagant for his tastes. He’s a simple man with simple pleasure in life and likes everything a certain way in relation to that. Probably why he’s here in the first place. His gaze shifts when a small recipe box hits the counter and Michael mills through them, back left vulnerable.

“I’m actually glad you showed up.” He’s still looking through the small detailed cards and Jack tilts his head in mild surprise.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, if you asked Brock he’d probably have lost it. He gets so absent-minded with things.”

It’s a little funny they’re talking about the same person, so much so that Jack bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing and instantly tastes blood. He’s still confused on why this dickhead’s not kicked to the curb, but Brock does have his faults and it’s not like it’ll matter much soon enough. He’ll fix that issue on his own, irritation crossing his mind again.

Because Jack has a curious sweet tooth, he pulls off one of his leather gloves and swipes the edge of the metal bowl with his pinkie, tasting the icing. It’s actually really good and that’s too bad for the party. He wipes his hand on a handkerchief from his pocket before tucking it away again and slipping his glove back on. 

Usually Jack would be glad for someone so distracted but it’s also no fun, unfastening a coil of thin wire concealed in a leather cuff attached to his wrist. He’s not usually one to use a garrote, not in his line of work, that was for assassins and spies. He mainly prefers knives or just his bare hands because there’s a thrill in knowing exactly when it happens but this called for something impersonal that still gave him the ability to feel every ounce of life leave his victim. It was especially necessary to know that when it came to this one. 

Now that he’s used it a couple times, he’s wondered if Natasha really expected him to believe it was a gag gift or if she knew him way too well. 

Michael held up the marble cake recipe in triumph just before the wire tightened around his neck and the carefully colour-coded cards all went scattering across the pristine floor. He even tries getting his fingers underneath but Jack doesn’t hesitate, he’s definitely not here to half ass the job. Dropping him onto his knees for better leverage, Jack bears his shoe down at the back of Michael’s leg, knee pressed against his upper back to keep him in place. He pulls the wire tighter and after a few minutes the aimless struggling slowly begins to wear down until it finally stopped and Jack finally releases that heavy exhale, his head falling back to stare up at the sharp white lighting cast on him. 

The body stays slumped against his legs until he shifts away and watches it fall to the floor. He reaches over for one of the cupcakes, taking his time to unravel the delicate paper lining before he takes a bite, savouring the subtle taste of cinnamon. His eyes linger over the corpse as everything seems to ease away, especially the jealousy he quietly harboured this whole time.

“I never really thought about adding cinnamon to this. Good idea.” He steps over the body to pick up two recipe cards, handwritten instructions with a pasted picture of the dessert cut out from a magazine. One was definitely the cupcakes, the other was of a poppy seed and lemon loaf that immediately caught Jack’s interest, slipping them into his coat pocket. He looms over Michael, studying his pallid expression of surprise while Jack finishes off the last bite of the cupcake and appreciates it just as much as he did at the first bite. “You don’t mind me taking them do you? I doubt you’ll be needing them anytime soon.”

*****

Jack stares at the scowling expression Brock’s giving him from the image on his phone as it rings for a third time and finally he answers with an unreadable expression. “Brock.”

“He’s dead.” Jack quirks a brow at how calm Brock sounds on the other end, but he supposes he shouldn’t be surprised. Jack gave him an answer to a question he likely didn’t have an answer he’d use. 

“Who’s dead?”

“Michael, my- ” Jack listens to the nervous way he goes about licking his lips with that soft smack after they press together and sighs. “Was somethin’ like a boyfriend, I guess. Lousy piece of shit.”

Jack starts passing through the channels on his television, almost bored. “Are you happy or sad? I can’t tell. Want me to bring a bottle of wine to celebrate with?”

“Yeah make jokes asshole. Gotta call the cops and how am I not surprised ya don’t even sound too upset about it? No one missed the way ya hated him.”

“Wasn’t only me, sounds like you did too.” Never once has Brock talked shit about Mike, never defended him but not one bad word and it’s curious considering Brock talks shit about everyone. Jack realizes how much abuse was put into this apparent relationship and if there was any doubt over what he’s done, it’s long gone.

“Yeah, well I didn’t kill him.” Brock inhales and lingers for a moment, “God’s honest truth, Jackie. Maybe I was thinkin’ about it. Shit. His head’s almost clean off, if this ain’t you or someone on the team, I- ”

Jack swallows; contemplates his next words carefully but Brock’s smart and wily, he’d figure it out sooner rather than later. Instead he offers a solution. “I know a place we can bury him, it’s a drive but it’s good.”

The long stretch of silence worries Jack a fraction of a second; ideas of Brock selling him out travelling through his mind faster than any other possibility. 

“Why’d ya do it?” Brock doesn’t sound disappointed, but he sounds surprised.

“Are you really that shocked?” Jack counters. “You wouldn’t have changed anything and that was something I wasn’t going to let you do to yourself.”

“Don’t need yer damn help, we were fine.”

Eye on the clock, Jack pulls himself off the couch and reaches for his car keys. “That’s a load of bullshit and it wasn’t for you, Sweetheart. I did it for me.”

Brock pauses, quiet a long moment before he speaks again. “And why would ya do that?”

“Because. You’re mine and if I have to keep a body count to get you to understand that, I’m more than willing to keep going.” 


End file.
